Jack: The Joker's Origins
by maymayB
Summary: Jack's mind started unraveling at a young age, but it only took one bad day to push him completely over the edge. A Joker (Jack)/Jeannie fan fiction.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello!**

**I'm glad you found my fic. Let's be real for a quick minute…I'm scared crap-less posting this fic. Although I'm a seasoned fan fiction author (I write mainly Dragon Ball Z, Bulma/Vegeta fics) I'm new to the Batman Fan Fiction Universe. But I am a HUGE Joker fan, and like many fans, my favorite comic is The Killing Joke. Jeannie's character very much intrigued me... so as you can guess, this fic will be loosely based off the comic, but I've always imagined Joker's origins in the Nolan-Verse.  
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**Warnings: This will be a dark fic. There will be mentions of abuse, murder and the such, and there will be some cursing. If this sort of this isn't for you, please seek the mini 'x' on the upper right hand corner of your computer screen.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman**

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**Memory**: _noun_, the mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving fact, events, impression, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences.

* * *

_"Jack."_

_"Ja-aack."_

_"Jack baby, where are you?"_

His body jolted upwards from its prone position and his hands went straight to his ears, covering them from the sing-song call. When the echo's of the sugary voice withered away, he sat up straight with a groan and squinted one eye open, shielding the other from the harsh desk light that was shining brightly at him. His eyes darted to the old fashioned alarm clock next to the lamp and sucked in an annoyed breath when it read 12:01am.

He had sat down with the blue prints of Gotham's City Hall just after 6pm, and he couldn't remember getting very far in his plans.

You were bound to pass out where you stood sooner or later if you hadn't slept in over three days. He had his reasons… He had a lot on his plate. He had a grand plan and it needed fine tuning, a certain Batman that he needed to string along, a gang of thugs to keep in order, and then the issue he never wanted to talk about…

_Her._

She would sometimes come to him in his dreams, sometimes not. He'd rarely think of her, unless something provoked a memory. It was a subject he had locked in a box and stuffed deep down into the depths of his warped brain.

He stood up suddenly and flipped the desk over, sending everything flying and skidding across the already abused wood flooring, his anger exploding at the thought of her sweet face. He knew that the memories and feelings that often came with weren't going to go away anytime soon. This sort of thing happened on occasion, especially after his first stint in Arkham. The anti-psychotics and therapy sessions brought her to the surface, which royally pissed him off. He kept the memories to himself, mind you. He didn't want to give the assholes at Arkham the satisfaction that they were actually doing their job. He'd usually just sit in the therapy room and keep completely quiet, agitating his therapist, or make snide or crude jokes, agitating the good doctor even more. But he never cracked and answered the questions they so very much wanted the answers to:

What's your name?

How old are you?

Where are you from?

What were your parents like?

When did you first start acting the way that you do?

The list of questions went on and on and finally they stopped being asked once they realized he wasn't going to crack, and then the therapist did most of the talking. Those questions held the key to his undoing. If they knew the answers, he'd be powerless…well, to an extent. He'd still do the things he did best, but the edge and mysteriousness and the power wouldn't be there for him anymore…and really, where's the fun in that?

He ran a hand over his face, smearing the white, black and red grease paint even more then it was before and grabbed his heavy purple suit jacket to put on. He needed to go do something…he wasn't sure what yet, but it needed to be something that would get his mind on something else. Maybe a little kidnapping, an explosion of some sort…something, anything!

He walked out of his room and into the warehouse where a few of his men were snoring away. Usually he'd take pleasure in scaring the shit out of them by shooting at their feet. Woohoo! The looks on their faces when he did that. Or maybe punching one of them so hard they were knocked off of their makeshift bed and landed on the floor. But he passed on that, it didn't really make his heart go pitter patter.

Not bothering to look around first, he exited the warehouse and made his way onto the street. He knew he could be spotted, but it was the middle of the night, not a lot of people were out and about, and those who were wouldn't dare call the cops.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and walked, trying to think of something to do…but it was no use, and he knew it.

Soon thoughts of when The Joker was born and Jack Lucas Napier died bubbled up to the surface of his warped brain...

* * *

It was supposed to be an in and out job. Intimidate, collect and go home. But it just didn't happen that way….But then again, when did things ever go smoothly for him?

Never.

Jack lumbered into the night club, already hating the job he was assigned. The loud, thumping music reverberated off the cement walls and it made him want to turn around and leave. He wasn't a fan of the rich men and women of Gotham. Their taste in music and clothing were annoying to him… as a matter of fact, everything about the yuppies of Gotham annoyed him. It was Jack's favorite pastime to knock them down a peg or two by humiliating them in some way or another. Their arrogance and self-importance made him both laugh and want to punch their teeth in at the same time. They were the bane of his existence, even before he started working for his loan shark boss. No, Jack and the wealthy, stuck up people of Gotham weren't the best of friends…

The fact that they thought they were in charge of their lives was deliciously hilarious. More than 80% of the major players of Gotham's stock market were in collusion with the mob. But then again, who in this city wasn't?

He surveyed the warehouse turned night club, sneering at the crowd while he did so. He just wanted to get this over with, get out of here and go to bed.

He shoved passed the throngs of drunken men and women and up the stairs that led to the office which oversaw the club floor, where the target of intimidation was for the evening. He knocked and waited impatiently for the door to be opened.

"Who is it?" A deep, muffled voice asked from the other side of the door asked.

"Jack Napier." He answered back and leaned in closer to the door to listen to the scrambling and low, panicked voices bicker at each other.

He waited a whole sixty seconds and pounded harder. "I haven't got all night, open the door before I lose my temper."

With that the door almost immediately opened, revealing a short balding man dressed in a polyester suite that looked like it came straight from the 60's. "Jack! Hey, how are you?" He opened the door fully and gestured for him to come in. "I was just…umm… cleaning up my office."

Jack looked at him incredulously and then at the small office. Boxes were stacked head height, making the small office even smaller. A rolling chair was shoved up against the book shelf opposite of the desk that overflowed with paper, and on top of the crumpled mess was an old mirror, several lines of white powder and a rolled up fifty dollar bill.

He rolled his eyes. Jack hated dealing with druggies… probably because that's who he dealt with all the time.

A half dressed woman leaned against a tattered couch which was shoved up against the cluttered desk. She was too busy pulling her tight skirt down and wiping under her nose at the same time to give Jack the time of day. "I, uh, obviously interrupted things," Jack scoffed as he sat down on the ugly brown couch. He gave the woman a smirk. "Take a hike."

The woman's jaw dropped. "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't get to talk to me like that."

Jack's eyebrow twitched, but his smirk remained on his face.

"Eh-herm. Cinnamon, baby, why don't you go down stairs and get a drink. Give me and Jack a few minutes to conduct some business," the man said, winking at her. "Just tell Jeannie down there at the bar that you're with me, she'll take care of you."

Cinnamon licked her lips teasingly and then stroked his cheek. "Sure daddy. But don't make we wait too long." She then turned to Jack and gave him a glare and left in search of the free drinks that were promised.

"You've been a busy boy." Jack said, pointing to the door where Cinnamon had just exited out of. "You're not paying for her with our money, are you Tony?"

Tony's forehead almost instantly started sweating and he started to fidget. "Is that why you're here?"

Jack smiled at him, not bothering to answer his question. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a worn deck of cards, shuffling them absently. He looked up at Tony's sweaty form and patiently waited for him to explain himself.

"I-I swear I paid."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued shuffling. "No, Tony boy. You haven't. Otherwise I wouldn't have been sent to this shit hole."

"I'll have you know, this is the most popular night club in Gotham. I had Bruce Wayne in here last night."

Jack cocked his head to the side. "Well, whoop-de-doo!" He was deadpan as he whirled his pointer finger in the air. "So I guess, since you're doing so well, then you must have my boss's money." Jack stood up and playfully tapped his long index finger on his chin. "All $135,000… plus interest."

Tony paled. "I…I told you, already paid that back."

"Not according to my boss' books you didn't." He squinted at him, his smirk still on his face, though it didn't quite meet his eyes. It made him that much more intimidating. It was one of the attributes that made Jack truly feared. The smiles always came before the final warning.

He took a step towards Tony. He towered over the already short man, making him look like a giant compared to him. It was something that he used to his advantage. Jack was tall, almost lanky. He didn't look like the meat heads his boss usually had on his payroll. He didn't look like he had a whole lot of muscle, but if you were served one of Jack's knuckle sandwiches, you'd beg to differ.

Tony lifted his chin, giving Jack an almost defiant look, and then allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips. "Well maybe your boss' books are wrong...if you get my drift." He gave Jack a knowing wink then walked over to his desk. "I'm sure we can work something out, so you can, you know…look the other way." He rummaged through the piles of crumpled paper, making pieces flitter and fall to the ground until he found what he was looking for. He turned around triumphantly, holding a large bag of what Jack assumed was powdered cocaine and another bag of mushrooms. "Choose your poison."

Jack's eyes narrowed at the two baggies and then at Tony, then sighed heavily.

His arm shot out in a blink of an eye, grabbing a pair of rusted scissors that were sitting on the edge of the desk and his other hand grabbed onto Tony's right hand, knocking the bag of coke onto the ground. He held Tony's clammy hand flat on the desk, palm out.

"I resent the fact that you are trying to bribe me with drugs, Tony."

The short, bald man was trying frantically to free his hand, but it was no use, Jack's grip on it was way too strong to get out of. "What the fuck! What are you doing?"

"Against my better judgment, I'm giving you a break." He almost chuckled when he saw the look of relief in Tony's eyes and then the look of horror as Jack lifted the scissors up, then plunged it into his hand, imbedding the scissors into the desk.

"Now," Jack said, letting go of Tony's arm to flick him in the ear to make him stop screaming. "You should really stop your screaming, what I'm about to say is kind of important." He flicked Tony in the ear again and grunted when he finally shut up. "This," he pointed to his bloodied hand that was currently attached to the wooden desk, "is just a warning. I was told I could kill you if you didn't have the money, but I'm tired, Tony. I've had a long day, and all I want to do is go get something to eat and then go home. And killing you would just make that impossible. It takes hours to clean the scene of the crime and then getting rid of the body…" He shook his head. "You know what I'm saying, Tony?"

Tony whimpered something unintelligible.

"Great! I'm giving you till the end of the week, and when I come back, I expect $135,000 plus interest, in cash, waiting for me. And if you don't have it…well, you know what will happen." He gestured to Tony's hand. "See you soon, Tony." He turned around and exited, closing the door behind him. His ears were met with a bassy remix of Sweet Dreams Are Made of These, making him shudder. The throbbing beat made his head pound.

* * *

Jeannie poured a Washington Apple Martini into it's designated glass and handed it to Cinnamon, who grabbed for it and drank it greedily. It was her third one in ten minutes, and the woman didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Sweety," Cinnamon slurred and leaned across the bar. "You should really think about strippin'. Your bod' is perfect and you got the looks." She fluffed her obvious red dyed hair and pounded the remainder of her drink. "The money is real good too. I was able to pay for my boob job after a month of saving."

Jeannie's brow shot up and looked down at her outfit. She had more skin covered than the stripper standing across the bar. She wasn't dressed like a trollop, as her mother would say. A pair of leggings, ankle boots and a long sleeved slouch shirt that showed her bare shoulder… her makeup wasn't on too thick...was it the hair? Did she look like a stripper and nobody had the guts to tell her until now? "Thanks, but no thanks." Jeannie answered.

Cinnamon put the martini glass on the bar and gestured for another. "Seriously, doll. Just a bit more makeup and maybe dye your blonde hair to maybe a red or some other fun color and get you into some sexy clothes and the men will be drooling all over you. You seriously have the look, we'd just have to tweak a few things." She gestured to Jeannie's chest.

Jeannie grabbed the bottles to make yet another Washington Apple, biting her tongue as she did so. Being told that she had the looks of a stripper really wasn't making Jeannie all too happy. Why did Tony have to tell every woman he brought back with him to the club to see her while he conducted business? It was exhausting dealing with a new woman every night.

She quickly shook the alcohol together and poured the bright green contents into the empty glass, pushing it towards the thirsty woman as a tall man in a very nice gray suit sat down in front of Jeannie at the bar.

"You're free to go back to your bald lover-boy," he said to Cinnamon, and then turned to her, ignoring the dirty look the stripper gave him.

Jeannie watched as she sauntered drunkenly away, martini glass in hand. Tony really knew how to pick the winners…but then again, look at Tony. She shook her head when she saw Cinnamon loose her footing and stumble slightly, but managed to not spill a drop of her drink or fall flat on her face.

Someone cleared their throat, bringing Jeannie back from watching the drunken woman stumble about the dance floor. She shook her head in disbelief and blushed slightly when she saw that he was staring at her intently, and none too friendly, either. But even though he was scowling at her, she was still taken aback by his handsome features. His semi long curly, dirty blonde hair was slicked back, giving him a 1920's mobster look, and his eyes were a piercing green that reminded Jeannie of her mother's emerald earrings she wore on occasion.

"Errr…What can I get you?" She asked, embarrassed that she had been caught ogling like a hormonal teenager would a boy band member.

The man's brow shot up and the snarl on his lips made it apparent that he was not appreciating her making him wait. "Club soda and a napkin." He snapped.

"Oookay." She replied sarcastically and quickly filled a highball glass full of carbonated water and a few paper napkins and placed the items in front of him.

He hurumphed is displeasure as he snatched up a napkin and soaked it into the glass, and then tossed his tie over his shoulder, revealing a rather large red splatter on his otherwise crisp, clean white shirt. "Fucking druggie." He mumbled as he dabbed and scrubbed lightly at the stain.

"Can I get you anything else? You look like you could use some sort of alcoholic beverage."

"I don't drink." He replied curtly.

Jeannie looked at him, surprised. "Oh…umm well then," She grabbed a tall glass and packed it full of ice. "How about something non-alcoholic." She poured the glass half full with lemon-aid and then topped it off with iced tea. "On the house." She added as she placed the full glass in front of him. "You look like you've had a rough day." She added.

"Thanks." He grumbled and dipped another napkin into the glass full of club soda and started to scrub at the stain again.

"Uhm… you're going to want to soak that shirt in cold water for a while and then bleach it. I find that works best to get blood stains out of clothing." She said as she moved to the side to refill a drink for another club patron.

He sighed heavily and tossed the wet and slightly bloodied napkin on the bar and snatched his unwanted drink up to take a hefty gulp. "What is this?"

Jeannie looked over from the beer taps and smiled. "That's an Arnold Palmer. You like it?"

He chugged the rest and slid the emptied glass away from him and stood up. He gave her a smirk and slapped some money on the bar and left without saying a word.

"I'll take that as a yes?" She called after him but either the loud music drowned her out or he chose to ignore her.

After tending to a few more men and women in need of blurring their senses with alcohol, she went back to collect her tip that the grumpy yet good looking man left her. She had to count the three bills twice, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

$50 was way too much of a tip. Especially for a drink that was unwanted.

Jack tiredly pushed the door to the 24 hour diner open and slid into his normal spot. He managed to get four hours of sleep. His eyeballs sprang open at 4am and they stubbornly stayed that way no matter how tired he was.

He didn't get a chance to eat like he had wanted to after he left Tony's club. He went straight home and fell face first into his bed and almost instantly passed the hell out. Seeing as he didn't have any food in his apartment, he went to the diner he frequented, just not at the ungodly hour of 4:30 in the morning.

"Jack," Linda, a waitress welcome him who he had thought compared to the Crypt Keeper due to her skin and bones body and wiry white hair piled up into a tight bun. "You're a bit early." She smiled, showing off her yellowed teeth from her two pack a day habit. "You want your usual?"

"Yup." He drawled, shoving the hood of his sweatshirt off of his head.

"I'll let Norm know. I'll put a fresh pot on too." She smiled and went off to put his order in.

He usually graced Norm's 24-hour Diner with his presence around ten in the morning, when the streets of the Narrows were visible by the sun, making it possible to do some prime people watching. But seeing as it was pitch dark out, Jack had nothing better to do but to stare at the pie menu and wait impatiently for his much needed coffee. The diner was dead, he was the only patron and there was nobody to watch except for Linda count her tips at the front counter or Norm work away at the griddle, muttering to himself about getting pancake batter on the bacon.

It wasn't unusual for him to not get the recommended eight hours sleep. For as long as Jack could remember, he'd sleep in increments; three hours here, five hours there, maybe a two hour nap once in a while. He was used to it and it made his job easier, seeing as he didn't keep normal business hours. He used his disadvantage to his advantage.

He was used to it. It just took him longer to wake up than the average person did. But once he got a cup or two of coffee in his system, he was good to go.

As he started to read about the Cherry Pie Special for the third time, his attention was mercifully taken from the dessert menu to the ringing of the bell attached to the entrance. A familiar blonde stepped in cheerily, waving to Linda.

In Jack's coffee deprived state, he couldn't remember where he had seen her. He shrugged to himself, not wanting to use anymore brain power, and went back to the menu, contemplating ordering a Dutch apple pie with an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream after he finished his bacon and tomato omelet.

But he couldn't concentrate on the words describing the delectable assortment of pie's Norm's Diner offered. The words kept running off the page tiredly.

He soon lifted his heavy eyes to the front of the diner where the woman was having a conversation with Linda, which was becoming much more interesting.

"How was your shift tonight, Love?"

The blonde sighed. "Busy. And I had to do more than usual after closing because my boss had to go to the emergency room."

Linda's eyes widened. "What happened?"

The blonde shook her head. "He somehow stabbed himself with a pair of scissors."

"Oh my." Linda said as she poured her a fresh cup of coffee. "Give me a minute dear, and I'll put you're order in. Will it be pancakes or waffles today?"

"Waffles."

Jack watched as Linda rounded the counter with a fresh pot of coffee and an empty coffee mug in hand and headed towards him.

It was apparent to Jack who the blonde woman was, especially when she explained to Linda what had happened to her boss' hand.

He wordlessly took the coffee mug from Linda and waited for her to top it off.

"Hey, did you get that stain out?"

Jack looked up again to find the pretty blonde hanging over the booth opposite of him. She was smiling at him, waiting for him to answer. "I haven't soaked it yet." He answered and took a needed sip of coffee.

"Woo," she admonished. "That shirt's as good as gone." She shook her head.

He looked up at her again, contemplating whether or not he wanted to engage in conversation with her, especially since she was radiating happiness. It was a rarity to come across somebody, especially in Gotham that seemed genuinely happy. He wasn't sure if this was annoying to him or if this interested him. The line of work he was in, it didn't allow him to come across many cheerful people. The only cheerful person he knew was Sammy, his best friend.

He wasn't one for small talk…but then again, he had nothing else better to do, other than memorize the flavors of pies there were. Giving up, he shrugged. "It's only a shirt. I'll buy another one."

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking, and then gave him a smirk. "Why'd you give me such a big tip?"

His head jerked up at her from surprise. She was very outgoing. It was either that or she was clueless.

He looked at her, studying her features. She was younger than him, but not by much and she was pretty. Her long blonde hair went past her shoulders and she had it tucked behind her ears, making her whole face visible. He reminded him of a typical 'girl next door'. She looked sweet…innocent even. Her blue eyes shined as she stared at him, and Jack knew she was hiding something behind the cheerfulness. Her smile, which made her look even more engaging, and to any other person on the street she seemed like a content and happy person. But, like Jack, she was hiding something behind the eye-crinkling smile.

This intrigued Jack.

He narrowed his eyes on her, thinking about her questions. In all honesty, he really wasn't sure why he gave her such a large tip. Maybe because he felt sorry for her, having to work for a sleaze ball like Tony. Or, maybe because she was being accosted by Cinnamon the stripper, and no one deserved that…or possibly because she was the first person to be nice to him in a long while.

And of course, Jack wasn't about to say this to a woman he barely knew, so he just kept silent and sipped his coffee.

She gave him the same look, as if she was trying to figure out just what he was thinking, but her bright smile appeared, yet again, as she outstretched her hand towards him. "My name's Jeannie."

Jack looked at her hand and then up at Jeannie, unenthusiastically, but finally shook it. "Jack."

"Nice to meet you Jack."

He couldn't help a small smile. "Has anybody told you that your happiness is annoying, especially at four in the morning?"

Her bright smile widened. "Yeah…it gets me into trouble." She shrugged and looked at the floor bashfully. "True story." She sighed. "Well!" She slapped the top of the booth. "I'll let you get back to your brooding and coffee. I'll see you around Jack." She turned around and called out to Linda. "Scratch the waffles, Linda! I've got to get home." She waved goodbye to Linda and gave Jack a friendly smile and left, but not before throwing some money on the counter and telling Linda that Jack's breakfast was on her, since she made a killing on tips.

* * *

The following days Jack worked.

On Sunday he trashed the home of Marv Cunningham, a man who owed $15,000 to Jack's employer.

Monday consisted of helping his friend Sammy, who was also employed by the same man, by disposing of a body of a woman. What she did to deserve to be shot, Jack didn't know, nor did he care.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday he ran security for his boss, lurking through the streets of inner Gotham, making sure things were running smoothly , which was boring and uneventful.

When Friday rolled around at the end of the long week, it was time to collect from Tony.

Jack glided through security, and felt déjà vu when his ear drums felt as if they were about to burst with the loud thumping music, the repulsive men and women gyrating to the rhythm.

He wasted no time and went straight up to Tony's office. The door was open, so he entered, smirking when Tony didn't notice him.

"Good even-ing, Tony."

The shorter man jumped and yelped out in surprise and twisted around from the desk, where he was fumbling around with some paperwork. "J-Jack!" He said as he put his hand over his heart. "I didn't even hear you come in, you're like stealth."

Jack's brow perked up. "I know." He turned to the crappy couch and tossed a pile of folders to the floor to make room for himself to sit down. "I certainly hope you've got the money. Wouldn't want to kill you this fine evening." He deadpanned.

Tony nodded sullenly and wordlessly produced a worn black briefcase and put it next to jack on the couch. "All $135,00 plus interest. Cash."

"There's a good boy." He grabbed the case and opened it to make sure Tony was telling the truth. Satisfied, he closed the case up. "Nice doing business with you."

Tony looked at him nervously and brought his bandaged hand up to his chest. "Yeah. It's been a hoot."

Jack chuckled and stood up, and pointed to the boxes that seemed to have multiplied from the last time he was there. "What's with the boxes?"

"I'm sellin' the joint to Falcone. Getting out of the night club business and going into the used cars racket. Some good money to be had there."

"That so?" He drawled and grabbed the briefcase full of money. "Until next time." He smirked at him.

"Heh… yeah." Tony laughed nervously. "Why don't you go down and see Jeannie. Have a drink on me."

He contemplated the offer. "Be seeing you around Tony. Take care of that hand." Then headed down stairs to be swallowed up by the mass of people drunkenly dancing, making his way to the bar, searching out the blonde girl, who'd been distantly on his mind through the whole, long week.

It wasn't like he wanted to think about her. He'd be minding his own business and she'd just pop into his mind. She intrigued him. She intrigued him because she was a mystery to him. Jack had a knack for reading people…but Jeannie…Jeannie was different. Not necessarily unreadable, but she had layers like he did. He could tell she was hiding something, but he couldn't tell just what it was. Her happy demeanor seemed true, but it was laid on a little too thick. Plus, she took interest in him, which made him suspicious of her. Nobody took interest in him unless they wanted something from him or was trying to get to his boss through him.

He pushed his way through the crowd and swiped a seat at the bar, and waited for Jeannie to notice him.

* * *

beta'd by: SpringandbySummerFall

**Huge thanks to my beta. Seriously, woman. You're amaze-ballz.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello readers! I have a quick authors note at the end of the chapter, if you so choose to read it.**

**Disclaimer: I own, a crap ton of Joker lithographs… But I do not own Batman, or the characters. I know…sad right?**

**Warnings: This is a dark fic. There will be dark themes and some cussing. If this does not suite you, please find the little red X on the top right corner of your computer screen.  
**

* * *

**Secret. Adj; faithful or cautious in keeping confidential matters confidential; close-mouthed; reticent  
**

* * *

Jeannie spotted him before he had even sat down at the crowded bar. The second she saw him, her heart started to flutter. She barely knew the guy! She shook her head at herself in bewilderment. She had only had two very short conversations with him, and she did most of the talking each time. And yet his entrance prompted her to glance in a nearby bottle at her reflection to check her hair and makeup. He had a dark cloud that hung around him, he was mysterious, he was very serious; it was the complete opposite of what she usually looked for in a man. But there was something about him that was attractive to her, besides the baby face and the slicked back, dirty-blonde hair that made her stomach flip flop.

She ignored the wealthy young male waving a twenty dollar bill in her direction to get her to serve him and went to work on an Arnold Palmer. She had it mixed and poured just in time to turn around and put the beverage in front of Jack as he sat down.

She grinned at him. "Made just for you." She chuckled under her breath when he looked at her in slight surprise, something Jeannie was sure was a rarity, and proceeded to help the impatient man with the twenty dollars.

After making a couple drinks and closing a few tabs, she made her way back to where Jack was seated, but was disappointed to see two twenty dollar bills underneath an empty glass; the only thing that indicated he was ever there.

At 3:30 am, Jeannie waved to Sam, her co-bartender, and ran to the monorail station, thankfully catching the 3:35 train by the skin of her teeth. Like always, she got off at the 16th street station and walked two blocks to Norm's diner, just as she did every night after her shift at the club. And, like every morning, she was greeted by Linda and got a wave of the spatula from Norm.

"Waffles, Linda." She returned the wave to Norm.

"Coming right up, Love." Linda smiled and went to work, helping Norm mix more batter.

Jeannie surveyed the diner, expecting it to be dead. Not many people were hungry at 3:45 in the morning.

…Except for maybe one person, to her surprise…

Jeannie's brows furrowed as her eyes landed on the tall, good looking man who was looking up at her whilst drinking his coffee. He wasn't in the fancy suit he had been in just a few hours ago, but in a pair of jeans and a green hooded sweatshirt.

She moved toward the booth and slid into it without asking permission. She folded her arms over the table and gave him a playful glare. In return she received a bored, borderline annoyed look from him.

"Glad to see you didn't have to stab Tony in the other hand tonight." She smirked at him and full out smiled when his brow shot up. "I'm sure he deserved it." She shrugged. "He's…" She squinted trying to find a word for her boss. "..well, he's a dirtbag." She giggled.

"Agreed." He grunted and put his mug down. "On all counts."

She bit her lip, not sure if she should ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue, but she threw caution to the wind, especially given she had just accused him of stabbing her boss in the hand and hadn't denied it. "So, what is it that you do, Jack? I mean, what requires you to impale dirtbag's hands with scissors?" She rested her chin in her hands, looking at him intently.

He merely gave her a look that said 'what-do-you-think?' and rolled his eyes when she continued to look at him expectantly. He sighed. "Use your imagination."

"Oh I am." She grinned. "I didn't expect you to answer anyway." She looked him in the eye, making Jack a little uncomfortable. The girl was grating his nerves.

"Why are you so serious all the time?"

Jack bit back a sarcastic laugh. If she only knew… "What makes you think I'm always serious? I've barely conversed with you."

She shrugged. "Because every time I've talked with you, you've always grumpy or serious."

"Well, maybe because I find you annoying," he shot back.

Jeannie laughed. "If you thought I was that annoying then why tip me forty dollars for one drink…and more than once? No. I think it's a defense mechanism." She nodded her head, as if convincing herself of something. "Yup, that's what it is, and being a girl that likes a challenge, I'm going to break through your oh-so-serious shell and make you smile a genuine smile…hell, maybe I'll reach for the stars and get real ambitious and make you laugh."

It was Jack's turn to glare at her. "First off, what makes you think I have a serious shell? How do you know that I'm not made of solid, impenetrable seriousness? Secondly, two can play at that game, Jean-nie." He mocked, toying with her name. "If you want to crack through my seriousness, then I get to shatter your happy shell." He grinned at her, ear to ear, showing off his perfectly straight teeth, the one that he gave his victims before he made their lives a living hell.

She wasn't expecting that response.

"Well, Jack. May the best man win." She extended her arm and was surprised that Jack took it in his and shook it.

"Oh I plan on it." He replied darkly and slid out of the booth. "Until next time, Jean-nie."

She watched him as he sauntered out of the diner and disappear into the night, and at that moment, she knew she was playing a dangerous game.

"Here hon'" Linda said, putting a mug on the table top and filling it up with fresh coffee.

"Thanks." Jeannie said, shaking her head, still staring through the large glass windows, where she watched Jack make his way down the barely lit streets of the Narrows. "Hey Linda? How long has Jack been coming to the diner?"

Linda put the pot of coffee down on the table top and grabbed the money the man in question had left for her, giving her a thoughtful look. "Hmm. Longer than you."

Jeannie scrunched her brows together and did some quick math. She had been working at the Bar for about a year now, and that's when she started coming to Norm's.

As if reading her mind, Linda smiled. "He usually doesn't come in until right before my shift ends at about eleven in the morning or so."

"Huh." She nodded in thought and grabbed for the tiny half and halfs. "Do you mind telling me what you know about him?"

Linda laughed and gave her a knowing smirk, revealing her yellowed teeth. "Got a little crush, do we, hon?"

Jeannie ignored the woman and rolled her eyes. "Come on, give me the goods!"

The older woman laughed. "Well, he's quiet when he's alone. He's not the most personable person on the planet, but trust me, I've had worse customers."

"That doesn't surprise me. Does he come here with others?"

Linda nodded. "Yes, he comes with one of his friends, I think his name is Sam or something like that. When he does come to the diner with him, Jack seems a little more upbeat. He even smiles at times."

Jeannie dumped four half and half's into her coffee and stirred. "Anything else?"

Linda shook her head. "No, not really. He comes, he eats, he leaves."

She finished stirring her coffee and thanked Linda.

….This was going to be harder than she thought.

She smirked.

But like she said, she liked a challenge.

* * *

An hour later, Jeannie left Norm's and headed home, taking the monorail into midtown and then walking to her apartment complex, which sat on the outskirts of the Narrows and Gotham Village. Something she never heard the end of when speaking to her father, who lived in the rich suburbs of Gotham.

It was relatively safe and it was something she could afford. But that wasn't her father's main concern. He was more concerned about somebody finding out that his daughter was living so close to the Narrows and worked as a bartender at a night club. God forbid somebody at the country club find out that she actually worked with the common folk of Gotham. It would reflect badly on him.

Both her mother and father had offered their pool house, which had two bedrooms, a full kitchen, bathroom, walk in closet, and cable and wi-fi, but she knew that if she had accepted it would have been held over her head for life. And there was no way in hell Jeannie would be able to stay sane living in the same vicinity as both her parents….especially her father.

Jeannie was very much the black sheep of the Kerr family.

Griffin Alexander Kerr III, her father, was a third generation stock trader, and he was uptight as the suffix at the end of his name made him out to be. He completely ignored Jeannie unless she did something that interested him, which didn't happened because she never did anything that interested him, unless you counted the things she did that pissed him off.

She remembered as a young girl, she'd purposely get into his brief case and draw all over his documents, knowing she'd get yelled at. But it was sometimes the only interaction she'd get with the man. But it wasn't long before she figured out that her father truly didn't care what she did unless it made him look good.

Jeannie's older brother by three years was the apple of his father's eye, Griffin Alexander Kerr IV, and was a carbon copy of his father. Though a little less uptight, he was as equally in love with money and himself as her father. Jeannie and he got along in short increments. But when they were younger, she remembered being so very jealous of him. He got the father she would never have.

Her mother, Silvia Kerr, was a little more tolerable, but she was a raging alcoholic and wasn't often around. Jeannie remembered her smashed throughout most of her childhood, and even now she spent the time she wasn't passed out throwing cocktail parties or going out shopping with her country club friends, disinterested in making any time for her son or daughter.

And then there was Jeannie. A free spirit, her grandmother would call her. She was outgoing, and had a healthy sense of humor just like her grandmother, who was the only person she really got along with in her family. She wasn't a straight A student like her brother and she refused to join clubs while attending school like her brother, like the debate club her father had expected any young Kerr to join. She outright refused to become another perfect Kerr, earning her father's cold shoulder.

That and nothing interested her, except for the ballet and dance lessons her mother insisted she take when she was a little girl. That developed into something Jeannie loved, and she was quite good at it too. In fact, her talent got her a full ride to Juilliard. But it didn't last long. Not six months in and she twisted her knee, making her useless, causing her to be sent home. Jeannie was horribly disappointed. She had really looked forward to getting the hell out of Gotham and away from her family.

When she returned home, her father griped about it constantly. How dare she injure herself and make it so he couldn't brag about his daughter to his uptight, rich friends?

While she was on the mend at home, she was subjected to all the traffic in and out from her mother's cocktail parties. And one fateful night, she met a guy just a couple of years older than she. His name was Ryan Samson and he was handsome and charming, and to both her mother and father's utter and complete joy, he came from money. And, as much as Jeannie tried to ignore his advances, he quickly swept her off her feet.

And things were good…for a while. Her father was happy that she wasn't causing him embarrassment and her mother was hopeful that they'd get married, even though Jeannie was only 19 at the time.

But as their relationship progressed, Ryan's demeanor changed. At first it wasn't anything Jeannie really took to heart. Like how he always wanted her hair a certain way, or dressed in a certain fashion. And if she spoke out of line, she'd get reprimanded by him. In public, if she were to crack a joke not to Ryan's taste, he'd make her look like a fool.

As soon as she moved into his swanky apartment, their relationship took a turn for the worse…at least for Jeannie. She was forced to quit her job, because, echoing her father's values, it was a disgrace to have a girlfriend working in the service industry. After Juilliard, she had taken a job waiting tables at a swanky restaurant, and she enjoyed it, but being so terribly and utterly in love, she complied, and quit.

And before Jeannie knew it, she found herself in a position she never in her wildest dreams believed she could be in: powerless and beaten down, in more ways than one.

It took a drop of a pin to infuriate Ryan in those days. He got more violent and cocky with every incident, knowing she wouldn't leave him. And him being a closet coke head didn't help Jeannie out, not one bit.

If she didn't have dinner ready by the time he got home she'd get smacked in the face. Didn't lay out his suit for the next day, a punch or two to the kidneys. No toilet paper left in the bathroom, a kick to the abdomen. But the worst thing he would do to her was raping her. She wished he'd beat her rather than rape her, but Ryan knew this, and he used it to his advantage. In the midst of the craziness, they had become engaged. Looking back, Jeannie really didn't know why she said yes. Maybe because if she said no, she knew he'd probably kill her.

She thanked her lucky stars she never got pregnant. She had secretly been taking birth control pills, something Ryan would have lost him mind about. He was constantly talking about getting her pregnant…she knew he wanted to because that would make her running from him that much harder.

A year and a half she lived like this. And she knew she was stronger than the woman Luke had made her. She was a headstrong woman, and he had managed to stomp out her vibrant flame and love for life. But yet, she remained. She remained, not because she was in love. The love had died after the first few punches and the 'I'm sorry' bouquets of roses and jewelry gift boxes. She remained because she felt trapped. She had no job and virtually no support system. All of her close friends had left Gotham for college and her mother and father weren't any help. He did it on purpose; making her completely and utterly dependent on him.

But when she was passing out while he wailed on her face because he thought that she was flirting with his Polo rival at a cocktail party, when all she had done is ask him to hand her a napkin, she finally fled to her mom and dad's.

When she arrived at her parents door step with a swollen shut eye, a split lip –which needed stitches- and a gash on her forehead already forming purple bruises, she wasn't exactly welcome.

Her mother drunkenly cried because she wouldn't be able to be in the annual Christmas card photo shoot due to her face looking like Rocky had a go at it. Her Father wanted to know what she had done to make Ryan lose his temper. He even had the gall to tell her that she just needed to go back and apologize.

Even in her time of need, when all she wanted was to feel safe and be comforted by her parents, she finally realized they couldn't do it for her.

After screaming a few choice words at her mother and father, she left and got herself a cheap motel room in the Narrows, knowing she'd be protected because Ryan would never step foot in the area. But not before hawking her engagement ring, getting a cool $15,000 for it.

The very next day she got the job at the night club, thanks to Tony taking pity on her. And even though she lived close to the Narrows and worked at a night club, she couldn't be happier. It had taken her awhile to find herself again. She wasn't 100% back to normal; those kinds of scars, the mental ones, were hard to get over. She hid behind her cheeriness.

Nobody questioned a happy girl.

That is…until now.

* * *

The next day, at Jeannie's normal time of arrival, she wasn't surprised to see Jack sitting at his usual booth with two steaming cups of coffee, one in front of himself, and the other waiting for her.

"Crack the case yet?" He deadpanned as he moved the coffee mug closer to her as she scooted into the booth.

"Not yet, but don't worry. I'll figure you out." She smiled tiredly at him and grabbed for the half and halfs on the table.

Jack let out a dry chuckle and watched as she poured four little creamers into her coffee and stirred. As she did so, he studied her face. He could tell she was tired, and even though she was clearly dragging, she still could smile at him.

That right there told Jack a lot.

"What about you? Figure me out yet, or have you figured out that it's ok for people to be happy?" She took a sip out of her mug and eyed him.

He smirked. "I've got a few theories, but I'm not about to tell them to you so early in the game."

"You do, huh?" Her brow shot up. "Am I really that transparent?"

He merely gave her a smug, knowing smile, which made her grumble under her breath.

"What's wrong, Jean-nie? Mad that I've already got theories and you have zip?" He leaned back,pulled out a deck of cards, and started shuffling them.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Ok. Fine." She leaned forward. "Where are you from?"

"I think we should throw down some rules. What kind of game can be fun without some rules?"

"I wasn't aware this was a game." She took a sip of coffee.

"What else is this?"

Jeannie shrugged. "I don't know… the starts of a friendship…albeit, a weird one." She added under her breath. "Well then, tell me, what are the rules to this game?"

Jack smiled at her and continued to shuffle his cards. "Only two questions a day."

"Two? Only two?" She stuck her lip out and pouted. "You're no fun."

"I know." He deadpanned.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "Ok. Fine. Only two questions. Any other rules?"

He shrugged. "I'll figure it out as we go."

Jeannie sat there and thought about her question. "Well, may as well tell me where you're from."

"Gotham."

"Ok." She tapped her chin. "What's your last name?"

He stopped mid shuffle and looked at her, suspicion shining in his emerald green eyes. He warred with himself for a few more seconds, but decided that it was harmless to tell her his last name. "Napier."

"Sounds fancy." She smiled.

"My turn." He returned her smile, but his was much more mischievous, and continued to shuffle his cards. "How is yours and your fathers relationship?" He watched as her smile faded away and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"That's a little too personal, don't you think?"

Jack chuckled and paused his shuffling and leaned towards her. "You're the one that started the game. Are you already wanting to quit?"

She glared at him and gripped her coffee mug. Jeannie was many things, but a quitter was definitely not one of them. "Quit?" She said defiantly. "Not at all." She took a sip of her coffee and sat back against the padded backing of the booth and shrugged. "My father and I don't get along. We never have. Especially now."

Jack nodded his head, studying her face as he listened. "And why is that?"

She sighed heavily. "I embarrass him. He doesn't agree with my lifestyle, and I have pretty much refused to live the life he deems correct…among other things." She muttered.

Again, he nodded. Although he wanted her to elaborate, he didn't need for her to and he had reached his two question a day limit. He watched her as she took another sip of coffee. She was agitated with his questions. He patted himself mentally on the back for hitting a nerve right off the bat. But he had a feeling she and her father's relationship wasn't the reason she was hiding behind her sunny, happy go-lucky smile and demeanor. There was something else, and Jack had a feeling it was dark and it haunted her.

"You know, it's going to be hard to make conversation if we can only ask each other two questions a day." Jeannie grumbled.

He ignored her and fanned the cards out in front of him. "Pick a card, any card."

Jeannie looked at him questionably and then down at the cards that he held and picked one. She peeked at it, so not to reveal what she had picked. The three of spades.

"Put it back in the deck." He ordered, and watched as she stuck it back in the deck. He shuffled the deck and then put the neatly stacked cards in front of her. "Cut the deck."

She complied and spilt it, placing half of the deck next to the other half. He smirked up at her, plucked the top card off the split deck and tossed the card on the table top.

It was the three of spades.

She looked at him, clearly impressed. "You've got to teach me how to do that!"

He snatched the card away from her and put it back where it belonged. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Full of secrets, aren't we." She muttered.

He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That's the pot calling the kettle black." He retorted. "We all have secrets, Jean-nie. Some are darker than others. But, I'm sure you already know that." His brow lifted knowingly.

"What makes you think I have secrets, most of all, dark ones?"

Jack shook his head and reached into his pocket where his phone was. It was vibrating every few moments, telling him he was getting a barrage of texts. He read the texts with annoyance. He was needed asap at the docks, which meant he had to stop home and get his gun… "Duty calls, Sugar." He said smoothly as he slid out of the booth and reached for his wallet in his back pocket. "Until tomorrow." He tossed a few bills on the table. "If I were you, I'd start thinking of questions that are worth your time, Nancy Drew." He smiled, showing his teeth and walked out of the diner.

Jeannie stayed for a few more minutes going over what had just happened, especially her questions versus his questions. She asked normal questions. Questions one would ask a person that wanted to get to know the other. Jack forewent the pleasantries and dove right in.

She took his advice and started thinking of questions to ask Jack, seeing as personal questions were acceptable in this little game she had inadvertently started with him.

* * *

Jack hurried home. He needed to pick up his gun and then get to the docks as fast as he could. His boss was an impatient man, and he was one person Jack didn't want to keep waiting for long. The last person to do so had a gun unloaded in his face.

After picking up his Glock 17, he got to the docks and found Sammy waiting at the entrance to the abandoned building that was designated for secret meetings between Jack and Sammy's employer, clients or employees, and sometimes a murder or two. Hence the gun pickup. It was the one spot that the cops hadn't figured out yet.

"Hey man." Sammy greeted as he flicked his cigarette away and adjusted his flat cap.

Jack lifted his chin in greeting. "Do you know what this is about?"

Sammy shook his head. "Something about Falcone." He gestured for his friend to follow. "The other guys are here, let's get in there before the Boss gets pissed. The faster we get in, the faster he starts, the faster we get back to our lives. I've got a pissed off wife at home and the longer I'm gone, my chances of sleeping out on the patio goes up."

Jack rolled his eyes. Sammy and his wife always fought. Even when they were kids the two of them fought. It made him wonder why the two of them got married in the first place.

"It doesn't help that she's pregnant. Her fucking mood swings are killer…but she's horny as hell." Sammy laughed and clapped Jack on the back of his shoulder.

Jack grunted in irritation. "You both are dumb as hell. If you're not regretting it now, you will soon." He said, opening the side door to the building and letting his friend in first.

"What? Having kids?" Sammy rolled his eyes. "You say that now. But you'll see. Once you find that special lady that makes that stone solid heart go pitter-pat, you'll probably have five of them."

"Kids are nothing but wild shit-less? hobo's that do nothing but suck the life out of you."

Sammy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Whatever, man." He didn't want to get into this same debate with his friend again.

They entered the main part of the building and saw that they were the last to show up, but thankfully their boss was too busy talking to his right hand man, Casey.

There were only seven other men there, each with their own profession. Jack and Sammy were collectors who sometimes ran personal security for their boss, where some of the others did odd jobs and were the cogs and wheels of the crime ring that included a lot of breaking and entering and hijacking. Jack had been offered a spot, leading a team and hijacking semi trucks filled with high end technology or other things that could be sold on the black market, but he had turned it down. Jack liked what he did, plus, he was waiting to be asked to do a more complicated job, like a bank heist or a high profile kidnapping. That seemed more up his alley.

The two made themselves comfortable, sitting on a couple of crates and waiting for the boss to call their meeting to order. Sammy lit another cigarette, offered one to Jack and handed over his lighter, all the while laughing to himself.

"What's your problem?" Jack snarled, flicking the lighter to life and inhaling as he lit the end of the cigarette.

"I thought you were quitting."

Jack inhaled deeply then exhaled the thick white smoke. "Some friend you are, offering one to me knowing I'd take it."

"Alright boys," The boss clapped his hands. "I'll make this quick. As all of you know, Falcone has been getting more and more ballsy as of late." He flicked the ash off of his cigar. "I need you all to be on the look out for his goons on our turf. I just got word that the prick is buying Tony Caprizio's night club, which makes me suspicious since that Italian doesn't already own any night clubs. But you know what really pisses me off?" The pudgy man's nose flared as he gripped the umbrella that he used as a cane…and occasionally as a weapon. "I was going to buy that club." His thick English brogue got heavier as he spoke, indicating to his men that he was truly angered. "Do you know what that tells me? That tells me that we have a double crossing rat-bastard in our midst."

The room erupted into a quiet rumble as the men started talking amongst themselves, some accusing the other.

"Shut up! The lot of you's!" He roared. "I know for a fact it ain't none of you's in here. It's why you all are here at this shit-ass hour of the day. I need for you all to keep your ear to the ground and find who it is, and as a bonus, whoever finds the rat or rats, I'll give you $10,000 as a thank you. Now! On to the next thing," He flicked his cigar across the room. "The Gotham police department has hired some new recruits, and you all know what that means. Make sure to keep some extra cash on you all at all times, we need to start turning them, and if you catch any flak from any of them you let me know. Now get the hell out of here."

Jack and Sammy stood, both wanting to get the hell out of there. Sammy wanted to get home to his cranky pregnant wife and Jack wanted to go home and think about he and Jeannie's odd friendship.

"Jacky boy, hold on a minute," the boss bellowed, motioning with his pudgy finger for Jack to come over.

"See you later, man." Sammy muttered and hurried out of there, not wanting to get pulled into whatever the Boss wanted with Jack.

"Jacky, I've got a special job for you." He said as he pulled another cigar out of his inner suit pocket and waited for Casey to pull out a lighter. "I need for you to go down to the police station in the next couple of days and visit Officer Hammet, you know Hammet, don't you Jacky?"

Jack nodded and tried hard to keep his disdain for the slimy asshole Oliver Hammit off his face. "Yes, I know him."

"Good. He's got some information for me and I need a man I trust to relay a message. Are you up for the job?"

"Of course."

His boss smiled at him and clapped him on the back. "See you soon, Jacky. Oh, and try not to hurt our boy Hammet. I know the boy can be an ass, but he's useful to me."

Jack nodded again, already not liking the fact that he couldn't lay a hand on Hammet, but he knew that if he did, the boss wouldn't be so happy. And when you had a boss like Oswald Cobblepot, you did everything in your power to keep off of his shit list.

* * *

**beta'd by: Springandbysummerfall**

**I'm hoping you Joker fans are liking this. I have plans for our Jacky boy and Jeannie. Some good. Some bad… it's going to be a hoot. **

**For those who are Dragon Ball Z fans, I am a co-owner of a bi-monthly video podcast, Google+ community and the newly developed website dedicated to the Bulma and Vegeta fandom. We discuss fanfiction and a lot more. It's fun, we have hangouts, hold drabble nights, have on-going challenges and have writers workshops via pod cast. If anybody is interested , go to my profile page, you'll find the links there. =) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own DC, nor any of the characters in Batman**

* * *

**Warmth: The quality, state or sensation of being warm; moderate and comfortable heat.**

* * *

"What was your childhood like?" Jeannie wasted no time in asking her first of her two-a-day questions. She hadn't seen Jack in two days and she was practically bursting with anticipation when she saw that he was there in their booth, waiting for her after her shift at the club. She didn't bother greeting him. She made a bee line for him once she saw his dirty blonde, messy head waiting for her.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" Jack deadpanned.

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "You were a no-show for two days! I thought you were standing me up."

Jack smiled. "Missed me?"

Jeannie rolled her eyes, and ignored the question by deflecting. "Did you oversleep or something?" She did for a fact, miss him. It was weird to her. She barely knew him, yet the two days he didn't show up to the diner, she was saddened by his absence. That, and annoyed. She had some questions that she wanted answering and she was dying to know the answers about the mysterious Jack Napier.

"I had a few things I had to take care of." He handed her the mini bowl of half and halfs.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Then we're exchanging numbers." She snatched his cell that was sitting on the table, off to the side. "I'm not sitting here another night like a loner, waiting for you." She typed in her name and then her phone number. She then called herself from his phone and hung up after a couple of rings. "There. Your have my number and I have yours." She slid his phone back to him. "If you're not going to show up you can shoot me a text or call me so I'm not sitting around like an idiot."

"Didn't you always sit alone before we started this," he held his hands up, motioning between the two of them, "whatever this little game is."

She shot him a glare. "Don't sass me, mister."

He chuckled and wondered for the millionth time just why the hell he was there and why he was playing along. Part of him knew that there was a high probability that she'd turn tail and run screaming for the hills once she got to know him. The only people that could really handle Jack were the people that grew up with him and the people that worked with him…pretty much people that lived the life Jack did. The other people, people like Jeannie, didn't understand him…and they really frowned upon what Jack and his friends did as a profession. And, again, he asked himself what it was about Jeannie that made him get up at 4am in the morning or skip going to bed altogether to meet with her at Norm's and talk…about each other. It was very unlike him to go to such lengths for a woman.

"Repeat your question." He sighed.

She smiled as she toyed with her coffee. "What was your childhood like?"

"I was in foster care since I was five. It was shitty."

Jeannie waited for him to elaborate, but when he sat there silent she groaned in frustration. "Can't you elaborate?"

"Is that your second question?"

"No!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Come on Jack!"

He merely looked at her and took a sip of coffee.

She groaned, again. "Why was it shitty? Why were you in foster care? What happened to your parents? And don't say that's too personal to answer, because you did the same thing to me just the other night."

Jack cast his eyes downward. This subject was rarely talked about. As a matter of fact, only a handful of people knew the details of his childhood. His jaw clenched as he thought whether or not he should divulge such information, and then, a thought struck him.

"I'll answer your question, when one of two things happen." He raised his pointer finger up. "Either I feel you're ready to hear such information or two," he put up two fingers, "you tell me what happened to you."

Jeannie's brow furrowed and her shoulders sunk. "What do you mean?"

Jack lifted his head and couldn't help the smug smirk that tugged at his lips. "I'll tell you when I either feel that I know you can handle the story of my childhood, or you tell me why you're hiding behind your smiles and fake happiness." She started to say something to him, but he cut her off. "Something happened to you Jean-nie, something that haunts you every single day of your life."

Her eyes hardened and she stayed silent for a few beats. "What makes you think something happened to me?" Her voice, like her eyes, hardened as well.

"I recognize a person who's had something hellish happen to them. Something life changing, and not in a positive way, either." He matched her stony look, looking at her directly in the eyes, purposefully making her uncomfortable. He studied her, watching every shift and every blink. Jack could be patient when he wanted to, and with this, he would be. His curiosity was peaked when they first met and she laid the smiles on a little too thick. What possibly could have happened to a girl like Jeannie to make her hide behind a smile? The possibilities were endless, especially for an individual in Gotham. But, he'd bide his time and play their little game of twenty questions and when the truth did come out, he'd savor it.

Because…after all….misery loves company.

Her eyes finally shifted away and down to the table top. They stayed silent for a solid minute until Jeannie lifted her eyes up to Jack again. She was angry. The glint in her sea blue eyes shined like a rocket in the night sky and her jaw clenched shut as if she were trying not to scream at him, but she remained obstinate.

It made her look all the more attractive to Jack.

"Here's your chance Jeannie. Here's your chance to run while you can."

Her glare hardened on him and she thrust her chin up in the air defiantly. "Why would I want to run, Jack."

He couldn't help the sly smirk. "You're playing a dangerous game Jean-nie. You go too deep into the rabbit hole, there's no coming back out."

Jeannie's happy demeanor was long gone. Her smile had melted away and for once, Jack knew he was seeing the real Jeannie, the one that hid behind her perky mask. "I've already entered the rabbit hole, and I'm not sure if I can come back out." Her voice had changed too. It had turned into stone.

His brow rose slowly and he grabbed his worn out deck of cards. "Ask me a different question."

She looked at him and then down at his deck of cards, thinking. "Why are you so serious?"

He stopped mid shuffle and looked up to her again, annoyed. "Ask me a different question."

She inhaled deeply and thought of a question he may be willing to answer…or he thought she was ready to hear, but every thing she thought she'd ask, she somehow knew he wouldn't answer.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

His brow perked up at the question and she exhaled when he didn't tell her to pick another question.

He smirked. "No. I don't."

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" A small smile crept back onto her lips as Jack stopped shuffling his cards and put the deck down.

"I'm not a girlfriend kind of guy."

"Oh, so you're gay"

Jack nearly choked on the coffee he was taking a drink from. "Eh-hem." He coughed and pounded on his chest to clear it from the coffee that went down the wrong pipe. "No. I'm not gay." He shook his head. "Just because I don't wish to have a girlfriend doesn't automatically make me gay."

Jeannie shrugged. "Well, maybe you should get yourself a girlfriend and get laid. Maybe then you'll crack a genuine happy smile."

"Who says I don't get laid?" He grinned, showing her his bright white teeth.

"Ohhh." She exaggerated and nodded her head as if she had just figured something out. "So you're a hit'er and quit'er kind of guy."

She wagged her eyebrows up and down and winked at him, her previous darkened mood seemingly gone.

"Ha!" He bellowed and went back to shuffling his cards. "I guess I am."

She giggled and the air around them lightened. Jeannie was taken aback by Jack's assumption, and the more he pressed the more uncomfortable and cornered she felt. At one point she wanted to smack the smirk right off of his face…but what made her calm down and look at Jack just a little differently was when he said he recognized someone who has had something bad happen to them…and because she had a feeling he was one of them.

They fell into a comfortable silence: Jack shuffled his cards and did tricks by tossing one or two in the air and catching them, while Jeannie sipped her coffee as they both waited for their early morning breakfast to come.

"You kids should hurry up and eat," Linda said, breaking the silence as she slid their full plates of food in front of them. "Weather reports are saying it's going to start snowing soon and it's not going to let up for a while. It's practically sleeting now…and if the forecast is true, then the monorail isn't going to be running for very much longer." She slid a pitcher of syrup and tossed a few individually wrapped butters on the table and left the two to eat.

Jeannie looked over Jack's head to look at the window. Linda was telling the truth, it was sleeting and the gutters were almost overflowing with freezing slush and water. "Ugh. This is not going to be a pleasant walk home." She looked at him, hopeful. "You have a car?"

"I do. But it's in storage. I walk or take the monorail." He said between bites of his omelet.

Jeannie looked at him in disbelief. "Why would you walk or take the scary ass monorail if you have a car?"

Jack shoved another forkful of food and rolled his eyes. "I live in the Narrows. It'd be stolen in a blink of an eye."

"I'm not sure about that."

He put his fork down and gave her his full attention. "Why is that Jean-nie?"

She shrugged. "Something tells me that people know not to mess with your stuff."

It was true...to an extent. People in his neighborhood knew who he was and who he worked for, and for the most part people left him and his belongings alone…but that didn't mean everybody did. He wouldn't put it past some of Falcone's men to find out where he lived or maybe a cop who wanted to give him trouble. Even though it would be their mistake if Jack ever caught them in the act, it didn't mean it wouldn't happen. Plus his car was the equivalent to Jack's baby. His 1967 Plymouth GTX rarely saw the light of day, unless it was necessary…plus a car that beautiful attracted attention, especially to the car thieves of Gotham.

"Although it'd be hazardous to their health, there are some that are stupid and think they can."

She chuckled. "Hazardous to their health how?" She put up her hands, stopping him from answering. "You know what? Don't answer that. I don't want to know just yet."

It had only taken him a mere five or six bites to inhale his omelet, and once the last piece was chewed and swallowed he shoved the plate to the side and reached for his pocket where his wallet was.

"I used to have a car." She looked down at her half eaten waffle. "I miss that car."

Jack tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table and shoved his wallet back in his pocket. "Did it get repo'd or something?"

She shook her head. "My ex-boyfriend took it." She looked up and flinched when she saw that Jack was looking at her intently. She knew he was going to ask why, and she mentally kicked herself for even opening her mouth about it in the first place. "Don't ask."

His eyes narrowed on her. Oh, he'd ask. Just not now. "You take the monorail home?"

She nodded her head, her mouth full of waffle. "Mmmhmm. I take route 2."

"I'm taking that route this morning. Hurry up and eat, the weather's getting bad."

She nodded and started eating faster.

When she was finished she waived to Linda, thanking her for the waffles, and the two set off, huddled under their hoods, trying not to slip and fall on the slick cement while they jogged the two blocks to the monorail station. The monorail gods were looking down upon them: the second they stepped foot onto the platform, the train pulled up.

They dove in and sat down, facing each other, closest to the exit. The train was empty, since it was still early in the morning. The only riders were them, and a homeless man seemingly sleeping on a row of seats with a newspaper covering face. There was new graffiti, Jeannie noticed, above the windows and if it were possible the floor of the car looked grimier than the morning before.

"I remember when the cars of the monorails were bright and silver." She said, looking up at the words 'Gotham is the seventh circle of hell' scrolled in artistic handwriting.

Jack grunted and wrung out the sleeves of his sweatshirt out. He was soaked to the bone, as was Jeannie. He slicked his long hair back, splashing water onto the back of the seat and dripping a good amount down his already wet back.

"Where you getting off at?"

"Gotham Village."

"Really?" Jeannie smiled. "That's my stop! Do you live in Gotham Village?"

Jack shook his head. "No. I've got some business to take care of down off of 3rd Avenue."

She looked at him, baffled. The only thing that she could think of that was off of 3rd Avenue was the police station and a health food store that only hippies went to. And, as much as she wanted to ask what kind of business he may have at either the police station or the hippie store, she bit her tongue. "Well, my place is on the way there, so at least I'll get company on the walk home."

He crossed his arms and gave her a contemptuous look.

"Fine. Don't walk me home. See if I care." She stuck her tongue out and pouted as she looked out the scratched windows of the car. She peeked at him and couldn't help but giggle when she saw he was smirking at her little pouting act.

The monorail ride was short, The two reluctantly exited their safe haven and headed out into the now heavily snowing night, quickly walking to get to their destinations.

Mercifully Jeannie's apartment was just two blocks away from the monorail station.

"This is me." She announced, breaking their silence. She pointed to a large two story brick building that held four apartments. "That window there," she pointed to a large bay window that faced the street. "That's my apartment."

Jack nodded.

Jeannie bit her lip, warring with herself. "If…if you find yourself stranded after you're finished with your errand, you are more than welcome to come back here." She shyly looked up at Jack.

His brow furrowed in almost confusion. Kindness was not something he came across… "I'll be fine."

She shrugged. "Well, the offer still stands if you change your mind." She smiled at him and started to head to her door but stopped and turned around to face him again. "Oh. I have the next two days off, so I won't be at the diner."

Jack nodded and watched as she gave him a thoughtful look and turned again to walk to her front door. He waited until she was in and then continued down the street.

Unlike the sleepy streets of Gotham, the police station was lively. He slipped in, expertly navigating his way to the row of desks for the detectives. A few street cops nodded at Jack and some completely ignored or gave him nasty looks as he passed by. He nodded his head at the cops that acknowledged him and noted the ones that sneered at him.

He sat in the free chair that was at the end of Oliver Hammet's desk. "Hello Officer."

The heavy set man jumped in surprise and almost lost the jelly filled donut out of his mouth. "Mmrf." He half choked as he swallowed the remainder of the pastry. "Jack. What the hell are you doing here?"

"You have info for Cobblepot. I guess you can say I'm the middle man."

Oliver gave Jack a hateful glare and Jack returned it with fervor .

Oliver was not Jack biggest fan. Mostly because Jack kicked the shit out of him when he was a rookie cop a few years back; he had failed to pay a gambling debt in time to Oswald Cobblepot, and when Jack came to collect, Oliver thought he'd win the fight, but in turn he received a pistol whipping, a broken hand and an unwanted job with one of Gotham's notorious crime bosses. And since Oliver liked to gamble and lacked the necessary moral compass one would have if they were a peace officer, he obliged with Cobblepot and in exchange for information or favors.

The detective grumbled something under his breath as he brushed powdered sugar off of his wrinkled suit and looked around to make sure nobody was in earshot of he and Jack.

"Couldn't that Penguin son of a bitch send somebody else?"

Jack gave him an impassive glare. "Now now, Ollie boy, let's not resort to name calling. Just give me the information that our boss wants and I'll get out of your unkempt hair."

He grabbed an envelope out of his desk and slapped it in front of Jack. "There you go."

"What's in it?"

Oliver narrowed his eyes at Jack. "That's none of your business. Now get the hell out of here."

Jack slipped the envelope in his sweatshirt and gave Oliver a smile, one that silently said 'fuck-you-buddy'. "Have a great day Officer Hammet." He tipped an imaginary hat and sauntered out of the police station.

* * *

Jeannie sat down in the window seat of her apartment, curled up with hot cup of tea and her fuzzy hot pink blanket. It was still pitch black out, but the heavy snow fall was semi visible from the dim street lights. It was hypnotic and it had a strange decompressing effect on her, making her feel at ease. It was something she did whenever it snowed.

She watched as the snow blanketed the streets of her neighborhood, piled high on the stoops of the apartments next door and the cars parked on the curb. For once, the street was peaceful. Void of screaming children and loitering teenagers scoping out their pick pocket victim. She relished in this quiet moment, which didn't happen very often. She worked in a club where it was fast paced and loud, and even when she was at home, alone, she always kept herself busy either by reading, watching tv or doing some sort of project that kept her thoughts from going deep into the dark place that held her past.

She found, when she had first left Ryan, if left alone with her thoughts, she easily slipped into depression and would become paranoid and be fearful; what if Ryan found her? And, frankly, depression didn't look good on Jeannie. She had a certain love for life and was too stubborn to let herself succumb to depression or the irrational fear of being found by him. Sure, the fear was still there. It would be there forever, she supposed.

Her thoughts soon shifted to Jack.

Jack.

The very mysterious man who grumpily came into her life.

She shook her head and propped her head up against the cool glass of the bay window.

She just couldn't pinpoint what it was about him that made her so interested…so…infatuated.

Clearly he didn't hold a normal nine to five job. It was obvious to her the second he sat at the bar; the way he dressed, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke. He had an almost arrogant air about him, but it wasn't the normal arrogance that she found many of the rich men and women projected, not the self-righteous kind. No. He was entitled to his arrogance. He lived through something. Something horrible.

For some reason, Jack made her feel safe. It was weird, So very, very weird, especially since she knew what he was capable of. She was the one that drove Tony to the ER, scissors still imbedded into his hand.

Yet, instead of running away, it was like she ran towards him…

Jeannie squinted her eyes and lifted her head off of the window. She could have sworn she saw a flash of green down the street. She stared and her eyes widened as she watched a man with a green hoodie sweatshirt, one that was very similar to the one Jack was wearing, slowly walk up towards her apartment building. She watched and as the figure grew closer and her heart started to pound in her chest as the hooded figure stopped in front of her window, seemingly hesitant and then slowly trudged up to her door.

She scurried off of the window seat, nearly tripping over the large fluffy blanket she had wrapped around her as she made her way to the front door. She swung the door the door open as Jack started to knock on the door.

"Hi." She said breathless, from scurrying to the door.

Jack looked at her, brows furrowed in surprise. "Uh…Hi."

Jeannie opened the door all the way and gestured for him to enter. "Come in before the snow does." She closed the door behind him and watched as he grumpily knocked the snow off his beat up converse shoes and took a step in. She looked at him with amused interest as he hesitated entering any further into her home. His jaw was tense and it was apparent that he was uncomfortable.

"You're soaked." She said matter-of-factly. "Come in. I'll get you some dry clothes."

It was true. Jack was soaked and freezing, it was his excuse for taking up her offer. But he was feeling out of place and wondering just why the hell just didn't walk the 12 blocks home. He watched Jeannie shrug off the fluffy blanket she was wrapped in and toss on the couch as she turned away from him and disappeared down the hallway.

He ventured further into the apartment and took in his surroundings.

Despite the outside of her apartment building being ugly and drab, Jeannie's apartment was done up nice. Just to the right of him was a decent sized chase lounge couch that was a deep coffee color and on the opposite wall of the couch was a small entertainment stand that had at least a 42 inch flat screen tv on it.

Obviously tending bars paid well.

The walls of her living room was painted a light brown color, something he was sure Jeannie did herself. Apartments like these came as is. Nothing fancy or extra came with it unless the occupants took it upon themselves to spruce it up. There weren't many pictures up on the wall. As a matter of fact, there weren't any pictures on the walls. At least from where Jack was standing he couldn't see any.

To the left was a very small dining area that attached to a small kitchen, all new stainless steel appliances. Everything was clean and put in its place.

"Here." Jeannie said, emerging from the back of the apartment. She handed him a small pile of clothes. "The bathroom is straight down the hall. Change and give me your soaked clothes, I'll throw them in the dryer."

He was about to protest, but stopped himself. Even though soaking in ice cold, melted snow, he was warming up and he wasn't about to refuse and go back out into the blizzard.

Wordlessly, he snatched the pile from her and went straight to the bathroom. He wasted no time stripping out of the wet clothing and tossed his snow soaked clothing into the tub.

Jeannie gave him a pair of boxers, a pair of men's Adidas sweat pants and a bright yellow Gotham Wild Cats shirt and a pair of socks.

Once dressed, he brazenly opened up her medicine cabinet to root around. There was a rolled up ace bandage, a box of pre-cut medical tape for knees, a half empty bottle of Norco prescribed to Jeannette Kerr…he paused when he read her full name.

Her full name was Jeannette… He wasn't sure if he liked it. He preferred Jeannie over Jeanette.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant and some random hair care products.

He scratched going through the drawers and cabinets and exited the bathroom and went back into the kitchen where Jeannie was filling up a tea kettle.

"Go Wildcats." He said in the most mono-tone deadpanned voice, earning him a smile and a small giggle from Jeannie.

She looked him over, nodding in approval. "The clothes fit you well."

He shrugged looking down at his jock like appearance. "Not my style though."

"Most definitely not your style." She giggled again and walked passed him towards the bathroom.

He followed her and stopped at the bathroom entrance and watched as she scooped up his clothes out of the bathtub and then followed her to the small laundry room to the left of the bathroom. "They'll be done in about an hour." She said as she tossed in a dryer sheet and started the machine. "Want some tea?"

"Sure."

The two went back into the kitchen, Jack sat at the kitchen table and Jeannie started to take out the necessities for tea.

"I had a feeling you'd be showing up here." She said matter-of-factly. She kept her back towards him as she reached up on her tip toes to get the tin container that held her tea bags, but was being unsuccessful. The container happened to be on the very top shelf of the cabinet and it was just out of her reach. She growled in frustration and tried jumping up to grab it, but it didn't work.

She flinched when she felt a warm body lightly press up against her and saw an arm reach up and pluck the tin box up with ease and put it down on the counter in front of her. Her heart fluttered and she knew she was blushing like an idiot; the heat coming from her cheeks seemed to catch fire. "Thanks." She said heavily and couldn't help her breath hitch when he didn't move away. A tingle, one that she hadn't felt in a very, very long time, formed in her stomach and then moved its way downward, leaving a fiery, sensual path in its wake.

"You're welcome." He murmured close to her ear, effectively making her shudder. After a few beats he finally moved away, leaving Jeannie wide eyes and wondering just what the hell had happened.

Jeannie stayed put, making herself busy by opening the tin box and grabbing a couple of coffee mugs and spoons. She was still blushing heavily and her knees felt like they melted into mush. If it weren't for the counter she was leaning up against, she was sure she would have fallen on her face.

She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and turned around. Jack was leaning up against the sink, looking at her intently. She flinched and started to blush again.

Damnit.

Ignoring the crimson color she knew she had turned, she smiled at him. "So what should we do?"

He sauntered back to the kitchen table and sat down. "I think we should pick up where we left off." He smiled his mischievous, toothy grin.

"You do, do you? Doesn't that go against your two question a day rule?" She walked to the table, setting down two coffee mugs and two spoons and then went back to the counter to get a little creamer pitcher and sugar and then brought back to the table, taking a seat across from Jack.

"Due to this being an unusual circumstance, I think the two question rule can be lifted."

Jeannie squinted her eyes at him. "Will you actually answer my questions?"

He smirked at her. "It depends on if I feel you can handle it." He pursed his lips. "Who knows, that may happen." He looked over her head to a small window. The snow was falling much harder than it was when he came here.

She followed his line of site and twisted around to look out the window, and whistled. "If the monorail wasn't closed before, it sure as hell is now." She turned around to look at him. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Jack crossed his arms on the table and leaned into it. "I think we'll be getting to know each other quite well Jean-nie."

* * *

Beta'd by: Springandbysummerfall


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Happy Early Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it). Hope you all enjoy. Thanks for the reviews =) Just to remind ya'll, this is obviously a Nolan-verse fic based off of the Killing Joke's characters.**

**Warnings: This is merely a reminder. This is a dark fic. There will be cussing and dark themes. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Batman**

* * *

**Bewilder: verb/ cause of (someone) to become perplexed and confused.**

* * *

"Your name is Jeannette Kerr?"

Jeannie's brow shot up. "How did you know?"

Jack smiled evilly. "I looked in your medicine cabinet, and I saw your prescription bottle."

"What the hell, Jack! What are you doing snooping around my medicine cabinet?" She set her tea cup down and tossed her hands in the air out of anger.

He shrugged. "I'm sure you would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed." Without skipping a beat he continued. "You have an injury?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes."

He nodded. "I figured since you have a prescription of Norco and medical tape. What happened?"

She sighed heavily. She was angry at him for violating her privacy, but he had a point: she would have done the same thing. "I injured it dancing. I tore some ligaments and nearly twisted my knee cap clear off."

Jack sat forward, his interest peaked. "Dancing?"

Jeannie nodded. "I had a full ride to Juliard." She shook her head still in disbelief that it had happened. "I was a dancer. And a damn good one too." She ran her hands through her long hair, pushing some strands back out of her face. "My dancing partner and I were practicing for a performance… it was a particularly hard move, one where I'd run and jump into his arms then he'd flip me in the air and then help me land. We did it dozens of times and we nailed it each and every time…" She shook her head again, the memory running through her head. "I executed it perfectly, but when I went to land, he didn't have a tight enough hold on me and l landed wrong." She picked up her tea mug again and took a needed sip of tea. "Although I healed, I still suffer from pain, and my right knee is much weaker than my left." She laughed ironically. "It was my life. My escape…from everything."

They sat in silence for a few moments, the two taking in what was just said. Jack could tell, both from her body language and the way she spoke about her injury that it meant a great deal to her, her dancing, not her injury.

"I had to come home. I was useless at Juliard. Looking back, I was a complete idiot for coming back to Gotham. I should have started a new life somewhere else…I could have avoided so much shit if I would have done so." She sighed. "I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"How's that?"

She shook her head at him. They had been talking for a couple of hours now and they were on their second cup of tea and had moved to her couch, where Jeannie was again bundled up in her fluffy blanket, and Jack sat on the chase lounge part of the couch next to her. It was about 6:30 in the morning, but you couldn't tell by looking outside. It was still snowing heavily and the sky had lightened a little, but not by much. They had switched on the news, which was on mute at the moment, but from the scrolling words at the bottom of the screen, all schools were closed, as were most businesses and the monorail system. The snow wasn't going to let up anytime soon according to the forecast.

They both were running out of things to ask the other, besides the hard hitting ones that both were avoiding.

"If I answer this question, then I expect you to answer my question."

Jack leaned his head back on the couch as he considered her ultimatum. "I see we've reached the end of the road with our softball questions." He peered at her, giving her a contemplative look, his eyes gleaming. "Are you sure you're ready to go down into the rabbit hole, Jean-nie?"

Her face hardened. "Like I said Jack, I'm already in the rabbit hole."

Smirking, he lazily rested his arm on the back of the couch. "Proceed."

Jeannie closed her eyes. She hadn't talked about this to anyone. Ever. It was too late to turn back now, and who knows, speaking about it, to somebody, may help her. Throwing caution to the wind, she scooted just a tad closer to Jack.

"When I came home to recover from my injury, I attended a lot of my mom's cocktail parties, and that's where I met the bane of my existence, Ryan…"

She told him everything. Every single detail. Everything that Ryan did to her, how bad her injuries were…everything.

Jack was no stranger to what life can throw at you. And although he beat people up for a living and on occasion killed them, hearing what Jeannie had gone through for over a year…well, it didn't sit well with him. It wasn't like she was the only one that was beat and raped by their significant other, and usually he wouldn't bat an eye at their agony. But knowing Jeannie had gone through such events, it made him want to hunt down this Ryan asshole and end him…hell, even torture him before he did the deed. He had to pat himself on the back, though. Like always, he called it. He knew she was hiding behind her smile, hiding a horrible past. And even now, he knew the pain ran deep…maybe deeper than she knew.

She paused for a moment, and Jack watched as her eyes clouded as she looked off into the distance. She closed her eyes. "He was constantly trying to knock me up…and he had." Her last sentence was just above a whisper.

She finally looked at Jack, her brows furrowed and her mouth downturned into a saddened and angry frown.

She looked at him as if she was wondering if she should continue, and even though Jack wanted to know everything she had to say, he wasn't about to push. Jack was a patient man, so he sat and waited for her to continue.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, Jeannie finally continued. "I ran, when I found out. There was no way in hell I was going to allow Ryan to abuse my child like he did to me… but I wasn't smart about it. He was able to find me two weeks after I had fled." She ran a hand through her long hair, something Jack noticed she did when she was distressed. "He beat me." She chuckled. "Of course. But he made sure to kick me a few times in the stomach for good measure, effectively making me miscarry."

"Why?" Jack asked, not able to hold back the question. "I thought he was trying to knock you up, so why do it?"

Jeannie shrugged. "Who knows. He had told me a few days later that he'd just try again, and that I had learned my lesson. And I did. A few actually. The second I could go, I went and got on birth control pills and took them without him knowing."

"What else did you learn?"

"How to hide."

Jack didn't feel as cool and collected as when she first started her story. He was sitting up now, and even though he kept a straight face, his fists were opening and closing, and his jaw muscle was pulsating. He so very much wanted to dig his hand into his pocket, take out his knife, and stalk the streets until he found this Ryan...

He refocused on Jeannie. Her eyes were hardened, just like the other times where he pushed her patience. "And your parents did nothing?" He asked.

She laughed an ironic, loud laugh. "Are you kidding? My father demanded I go back to him and apologize for what I did. He said that if I'd just shut my mouth, maybe things like that wouldn't happen. And my mom, well she was pissed because there wasn't going to be a wedding and because my face was beat to hell and it made her look bad."

"Wow." Jack murmured. "That's fucked."

Jeannie shrugged and shook her head. "My parents are assholes." She yawned. She was exhausted from working all night and staying up the better part of the morning talking with Jack.

"Not compared to mine."

She perked up. "Spill, buddy." She was thankful to not be talking about herself and the shit she had to live through. And, it did feel good it talk about it, even though Jack hadn't said much while she told her story, but his usual stoic facial expression faltered, especially when she told him about the very last beating she received from Ryan.

Jeannie yawned again and rested her head on the couch cushion, her eyes slightly drooping as she got comfortable.

Jack watched her as she slowly started to fade. "I think I'll tell you some other time." He too rested his head on the back cushion of the couch. They were facing each other, but their legs were respectively tucked away, so not to invade their personal space.

"You promised." She slurred as her eyes finally fell lazily shut. "Don't hold out on me, jerk."

He snickered and couldn't help his eyes shut as well.

* * *

The smell of coffee woke her. Her eyes slowly opened and was surprised to see a cup of steaming cup of coffee, with cream already mixed in, in front of her nose.

She blinked rapidly as her eyes focused to the light that was streaming in from the outside.

"Rise and shine, cupcake. It's noon."

Jack sat next to her once she took the mug from him and sipped out of his own mug full of much needed caffeine.

"Already?"

"Mmhmm." He grunted. "We fell asleep around six this morning. Oh. By the way, you snore."

Jeannie nearly spit the mouthful of coffee out of her mouth. "I do not!" She squeaked. How embarrassing!

"You do." He smiled widely at her and snatched the remote from the coffee table and put it on the GCN.

"-clear skies for a couple of hours and then the snow storm continues. So if you need to run to the store or do some running around downtown, now's the time to do it. You can expect the snow to start up at about four this afternoon. Back to you Vicky."

"You're welcome to stay." Jeannie said, hurriedly, sounding a bit desperate. She enjoyed Jack's company and wasn't ready for him to leave.

Jack smirked and looked over to her. "Sorry cupcake. I gotta go to work."

She frowned noticing that he was in his clothes that she had put in the dryer the night before. "More club owners to stab?" She asked dryly.

He shot up from the couch in a quick, graceful manner and then tapped his chin playfully. "Nnnnope. No club owners. A couple of greasy lawyers and a banker." He flashed her a toothy grin as he jumped up from the couch and walked towards the front door.

"Hey, when do I get to hear your story of darkness?" Jeannie asked, following close behind him.

He opened the door and twisted around to face her. "All in due time, Jean-nie." He reached down and pinched her chin playfully. "Alllll in due time."

* * *

Jack went straight to Cobblepot's club to drop off the envelope he got the night before from Hammett, and after receiving his week's assignment and his pay, he went home. There wasn't much for him to do since the snow storm was going to start back up…but he couldn't help but feel instantly bored. It was only 2:30 in the afternoon, he had absolutely nothing to do, and he dreaded the thought of being cooped up in his apartment for the next day or so while it snowed. He rarely spent time at home. He only stopped by to change into fresh clothes or to catch the rare nap. But it was useless for him to go out and conduct business, seeing as he'd be stranded by the time he got the job done, due to the storm.

He walked aimlessly into the kitchen and groaned. He had absolutely no food, save for the can of pork n' beans and Vienna sausages that were in the cupboards since he moved in a few years back.

And god help him, he actually felt…lonely. He grimaced at the thought. Jack did just fine by himself; he learned that fact when he was just a child. It's why he was the best at what he did and it was why he never committed to a relationship.

He knew why he was feeling that way though. It was because he had spent the night and the better half of the early morning talking with Jeannie. Damn that girl. She was getting under his skin, and he wasn't sure if he liked that fact or not.

Before he put much thought into the hair brained idea that popped into his head, he dug into his pocket and searched through his contacts until he found her name and he had to do to a double take when he found it.

**Jeannie =)**

He glared at the name with the happy face. She did it on purpose, obviously.

With a roll of the eyes he hit 'call' and waited for her to answer.

* * *

Jeannie reluctantly put down the worn copy of The Watchers and blindly grabbed at her phone, not bothering to see who was calling.

"Hello." She sighed, continuing to read.

"Jeanette, darling."

Jeannie closed her book. "Mom?"

Her mother's titters made her cringe, and she contemplated hanging up on her. "Who else would it be?"

"What do you want, Mom?" Jeannie asked blandly. It wasn't until recently that she started talking to her, and it was by default. Her mother and father somehow talked her grandmother, the only family member she voluntarily spoke to, into giving them her phone number.

"Oh, don't give me that attitude young lady, honestly Jeannette."

Jeannie stayed silent and waited for her mother to continue, not really in the mood to have a back and forth with her.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm officially inviting you to our holiday party next month."

"Oh goodie." She said with fake excitement. "I'll pass."

"But Grandmother will be there. She so very much wants to see you."

She groaned. Her mother knew exactly what she was doing, she knew she'd come just to see her grandmother…but still, she truly didn't want to see her mother, and especially, her father.

Her mother took advantage of her silence. "I'll give you two weeks to decide. Give me call by then."

"Fine. But don't get your hopes up."

"Ta ta, Jeanette darling."

Jeannie hit the end button and tossed her phone on the couch in disgust and put both hands in her hair and pulled all the while trying to keep in a scream that she so very much wanted to let loose, but like everything else, she stuffed it deep down and locked it away.

As she started to stomp out of her living room and into her kitchen, her phone started to ring again. She paused, contemplating just letting the thing go to voicemail, but thought better of it and snatched it from its resting place where it had landed.

To her surprise Jack's name was splayed across the screen of her iphone.

She was so flustered with excitement and curiosity that she dropped her phone. "Shit!" she muttered and grabbed it again and slid the answer bar.

"Hello?"

"Jeannie?" Jacks smooth voice rang through the receiver, giving Jeanie goosebumps.

"Jack." She replied.

There was a pause and Jeannie imagined him smirking at her smart ass reply.

"I've an idea…"

* * *

An hour and a half later, Jeannie stood at Jack's door, arms full of groceries. She kicked his door twice since her hands were full and juggled the paper bag full of food so not to spill it on his stoop and waited for Jack to answer the door.

She heard, rather than saw, Jack open the door and sighed in relief when one of the heavy bags were taken from her.

"Made it just in time." He greeted and opened the door wider for her to come in.

The snow had just started to fall when Jeannie left the store and thankfully Jack's apartment was just a block or so away.

She followed him into the kitchen and set the rest of the bags on to the drab tile countertop of his kitchen. She quickly scanned the area and could tell Jack didn't really care about his home. Not that it was dirty. It just was dull, barely decorated or furnished, and from the looks of it, barely lived in. She slipped her backpack off of her back and put it on one of the two chairs in the kitchen.

"I hope you like soup." She smiled and started to empty the paper bags full of her purchases. "You sit down and start talking, and I'll start making dinner." She slapped his hand away from one of the bags that had the double-stuffed Oreos and pointed to the kitchen table.

He huffed but did what he was told and sat down, his stomach already growling at the mention of food. And from the looks of it, Jeannie got some good stuff. He smiled to himself. His idea of having her come over to cook for him in exchange for him telling her his story already was a win in his mind. He was getting a hot meal out of the deal.

"What's in the bag?" Jack asked, kicking it lightly with his foot as he sat down.

Jeannie looked over her shoulder and then continued to organize ingredients on the counter. "Clothes. I kinda figured I'd be staying here, since the snow has started up again."

Jack nodded. "I see." He leaned forward and started to tap his fingers as he thought about a question that he had wondered on his way home. "Did you want to kill him?"

She froze, keeping her back turned, and Jack could tell all the muscles in her body tensed up. She slowly turned around, the knife she was about to use to slice up onions still in her hand. "Of course I wanted to kill him. Who wouldn't want to kill the person who made their life a living hell?" Her brow furrowed and she gave him a look like he was an idiot for even asking the question.

He ignored her obvious annoyance. "Then why didn't you? I would have." He said smoothly.

Her lips pulled up into a sneer. "Because, Jack. I'm not a murderer. I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt…" She turned back around and started to dice up the two large onions in front of her. "Even though the bastard deserves a slow and painful death." She hacked at the vegetable with a little too much force. "Enough about me for a while. I want to hear about you."

He let out a small chuckle and grabbed his deck of cards that were on table top and started to shuffle. "What do you want to know."

"Mmmm, let's start with your childhood. I believe you said it sucked. Elaborate."

Jack pushed air out of his pursed lips. He didn't really want to tell her…. But she'd spilled her guts, and he was a man of his word…

"My father was a drunk and all around fiend. He liked to beat my mom up… a lot. I think I spent most of my younger years with a blackened eye or an arm in a sling." He sighed and continued to concentrate on his cards, keeping his eyes on the deck, ignoring the fact that Jeannie's chopping had stopped and he could feel her eyes on him.

"You stop cooking, I stop talking."

He waited until she turned around and heard her start up on the onion again. He went on to tell her about his less than loving and downright horrible childhood.

His life wasn't easy.

His first memories were of violence. It's how he learned how to defend himself at an early stage. One would have to if their father was a raging alcoholic and their mother wasn't strong enough to fight back. It's how he got stuck in the foster system at such a young age, after his father hit his mother too hard and killed her. Jack Napier Sr. was thrown in prison and none of Jack Jr's close family had the means to take care of him... or flat out refused.

He was only five when that happened and was either in the shitty state run facility for foster children or being bounced around from one home to the other.

Sometimes he'd get the foster parents that just didn't give a rats ass about him and his foster brothers and sisters, sometimes he'd get the abusive ones and sometimes he'd get the loving parents that showered him with gifts and love, but those types were few and far between.

Being that he was a bright child, he was the target of many bullies. But many of the bullies found that Jack was a fighter and could hold his own in a brawl. His outstanding intellect and his tall, lanky appearance made him seem as though he was week. Many of the facility workers had compared Jack Napier to a wasp; he would never attack unless provoked, and if he was provoked, he'd attack until he dropped.

It went on like that until he took matters into his own hands…

"I became a runaway. It was the best decision of my life."

Jeannie, keeping her word, continued to prepare she and Jack's dinner. "How did you survive on the streets?"

Jack shrugged as he flipped a few cards in the air in a fancy manner and caught them. "I do well by myself. Always have."

"How old were you when you ran?"

He smiled, remembering like it was yesterday. "I was thirteen. Sammy and I were in a particularly shitty foster home-"

"Wait. Who's Sammy?" Jeannie interrupted.

Jack looked at Jeannie's back, annoyed that he had been interrupted. "Sammy is my oldest friend. Shut up, I'm telling my story."

Jeanie huffed and tossed the remainder of the ingredients of the soup and started to stir.

"Our foster parents at the time were real pieces of shit. All they wanted was the money they got for each kid they took in. And since Gotham is such a shit-ass place to live with more foster kids than they can handle, they had six of us at once. And just like most foster families I got the honor of being placed in, they didn't give a shit if us kids were properly fed or clothed; they used the money for themselves, not for us. So, me and Sammy snuck out of second story window when everybody was asleep and from then on we lived by our own rules."

"And what rules were those?" Jeannie asked as she crossed the kitchen.

Jack gave her an exacerbated look as she sat down across from him and pointed at the stove.

She held up her hands in defense. "It needs to cook for a while, geesh!"

He rolled his eyes. "We did what we want, whenever we wanted."

"How did you eat? Where did you sleep?"

"Sammy and I were well fed," He shrugged. "we became real good at pick pocketing." He grinned. "It's how we got our jobs we have now."

Jeannie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him like a disapproving mother would a child. "What exactly do you do, Jack?"

He cocked his head. "I thought you already figured it out. Remember, embedded scissors in your sleaze ball boss's hand?"

She rolled her eyes. "I just want clarification. What's your job title?"

Jack shuffled his cards again, and splayed them across the table in one motion and then grabbed the last card and flipped it over, making the rest flip over in a fancy domino effect. "I don't have a job title per-say." He shrugged. "Most people would call me a goon…" He looked up at her and smirked at her. "I collect money from those who owe my boss money, by all means necessary. I also run security for the boss and other various tasks. But mostly I collect."

"By any means necessary…" She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips at him.

"Scissors. Hand." He replied glibly.

She bit her lip. "Have you done more than that?"

He looked at her, slowly smiling a mischievous, almost evil smile. "Ah, and here we are, Jeannie. We've arrived at the million dollar question. The question of all questions that will define our little," he waved his hands, motioning between himself and she, "relationship."

Jeannie shook her head. "And I already told you, I'm already down the rabbit hole."

His smile grew larger, making Jeannie feel uncomfortable. The smile made him look like he almost had a screw loose and reminded her of Stephen King's movie, It. The exceptionally creepy smile and the razor sharp teeth was something made of nightmares, and the look in the clown's eyes was clearly psychotic.

"You're asking if I killed? Yes. I've killed. Now ask me when I killed for the first time."

Deep down Jeannie knew. There was a vibe that Jack had that told her he was a dangerous man. But sitting there, in his home, at his kitchen table, making him her grandmother's famous zuppa tuscana, she didn't feel the least bit afraid for her life. Unnerved, maybe. But not scared.

She lifted her chin, in an almost defiant motion, telling him she wasn't backing down. "When did you kill for the first time?"

"I was fourteen years old."

Her eyes widened. Fourteen? He was living on the streets since he was thirteen and not a year into that life, he had killed somebody? When she was fourteen she was daydreaming about David Boreanz and getting home in time to catch TRL on MTV, not fending for herself on the mean streets of Gotham and certainly not killing people to boot.

"Why?"

"Why did I kill him? Oh, well." He gathered up his cards and started shuffling again. "I saw a man late at night stumbling out of a bar and figured he was an easy mark. He had a nice suit on, he was well kept. So I brushed past him and got his wallet. I can still remember what was in it too. Four hundred in cash and a platinum Visa card, and wouldn't you know it, the pin number written on the back. That's hitting the jackpot right there, especially for a fourteen year old boy living on the streets." He shook his head. "Anywho, he must not have been as drunk as I assumed because he felt me take his wallet. He kicked my ass and apparently he wasn't above stomping my head into the concrete, so I did what I had to do. I took out my knife, and stabbed him. Square in the chest." He told his story in such nonchalant way, as if he was discussing the weather.

Jeannie remained silent for a long while, soaking in what Jack had just told her. They were really born from two different worlds… but both shared a dark, albeit different past. But she was trying to live a normal life, and it seemed Jack threw caution to the wind and was living life exactly how he was when he had run away from his foster home. Except now, he got paid to do, essentially, what he had to do to survive on the streets.

"Did you feel any kind of remorse?"

Jack's mouth turned downwards as he thought about her question. "No. Not particularly."

She merely nodded. She knew she should gather up her things and get the hell out of there. But, again, the strange feeling of being safe and not being in danger was not present. The more she thought about, the more, dare she say, was somewhat intrigued, and maybe a little turned on. She blushed and got up suddenly, and went back to the stove to stir the soup that was simmering away, so not to embarrass herself.

As she stirred, a thought struck her, and the answer he might give did scare her. She slowly put the wooden spoon down and turned around to face her once more. "Do you beat or rape women?"

Jack froze and after a few beats, he placed his worn deck of cards on the table and looked up at her, the wicked smile, gone. "Beat, yes. Raped, no."

Her jaw clenched at his answer.

"I can count on my hand how many women I slapped around. They were all clients of my boss. Women that tried to skip town with out paying or down right refused to. Remember Jean-nie. All means necessary. But, in my defense, I did give them many, many chances to pay up. And they all attacked, or in some cases, shot first. " He stood up and slowly stepped towards her. "None were significant others of mine." He stopped right in front of her, his face stone-like as he peered down at her. His emerald green eyes searching her light blue one's, gauging her next actions, and when she didn't make a move to leave or lash out, he tentatively moved his hand up to her face, letting it hover over her cheek and then finally, rested it on her pink cheek, his thumb lightly moving up and down.

His hand was so warm on her cheek, making the rest of her body feel ice cold. She distantly wondered if his whole body was that warm, or if she was really that cold. She shivered and did all she could to stop herself from pulling him up to her.

"I can't imagine why someone would want to harm you." He said in a harsh whisper. His other hand covered her other cheek and the warmth made her shiver again, but this time the shiver went from her cheek all the way down to the depths of her stomach, giving her butterflies. "You really should have killed him, Jeannie. Only a sadistic man would do the things to a beautiful woman like you."

She was speechless. Not only because of Jack's unexpected affectionate caress, but his words, too. And still, the scales were definitely tipping significantly towards 'I am really liking this guy'.

But a small voice in her mind was screaming at her to get the hell out. He was dangerous. He beat people up for a living, and on occasion, murdered them. Any other normal person would have been heading for the hills by now.

But, unlike the feeling she had with Ryan, even when she first met him at her mother's cocktail party, she felt utterly safe with Jack.

It was bewildering to her.

He stepped back, taking his warm hands with him. He shook his head and looked down at the floor, as if he was wondering what the hell he was doing.

She exhaled and turned towards the soup again. "Dinner will be ready soon."

* * *

beta'd by: Springandbysummerfall


End file.
